It's
tough to say exactly how many express boats I've wrung out over
the years, considering my long-term memory these days is as bad as my--Ahhhh!
Just a second now. Lost my train of thought. Oh yeah!--short-term
memory. But certainly, I've examined my fair share. And, of course,
I've also examined quite a few midcabins, those odd, inefficacious
accommodation spaces that are typically found beneath the raised helm
areas of express boats.

I use
the word inefficacious advisedly. Not all midcabins are impractical and/or
inadequate. In fact, on vessels in the 40-foot-plus range, I've
seen many that were easily accessible and quite comfortable. But concerning
the smaller boats that comprise the lion's share of the express
market, my midcabin reviews have been generally mixed at best. Most of
these spaces were cramped, gloomy, and airless--more like fiberglass
dog kennels than full-fledged, or even half-fledged, staterooms. Some
seemed so blatantly inhabitable it was hard to imagine a purpose for them
at all, other than as giant, inconvenient, and undifferentiated stowage
maws.

All
this lends perspective to my test of the Cruisers 3275 Express, which
boasts one of the roomiest, most practical midcabins I've ever encountered
on a 30-some-footer. Thanks to Cruisers dealer Hideaway Marine of Pompano
Beach, I had a chance to examine a prototypical Express a few weeks ago,
prior to a sea trial on nearby waters, and spent as much time marveling
at how Cruisers achieved this design coup as I did admiring the coup itself.

Headroom's
the key. What designers essentially wanted to do with the layout of the
Express was create a unique and versatile midcabin that would both offer
the feel of a separate compartment and blend its comforts seamlessly into
the rest of the interior. This meant headroom had to equal, or at least
come close to, the standing headroom at the rear of the saloon/head/galley/dinette
area, a radical objective considering the scant headroom found in most
midrange midcabins today. How did Cruisers accomplish the task? First,
it lowered a portion of the boat's "liner/stringer combo,"
a futuristic undergirding element I'll get into shortly. This in
turn lowered the midcabin sole by four inches and created the separate-compartment
effect just mentioned. Second, they added eight or nine inches to the
height of the deck molding over the midcabin area, doing it with such
subtlety that the boat's profile remained pleasing to the eye. And
third, they imparted just the right slope to the footrest at the helm,
so its underside--which doubles as the slanting overhead for the
midcabin's entryway--does not knock heads. The result? A remarkably
lofty space (much of it with standing headroom) that's comfortable
and, thanks to a hanging locker to port and a Flexsteel sofa/bed at the
rear, eminently practical.

Now
about that liner/stringer combo. One of the most significant trends in
boatbuilding these days is the move toward all-glass vessels, with a critical
component--the all-glass stringer grid--usually molded separate
from the hull and tabbed in afterwards. While tabbing in an all-glass
grid instead of an old-fashioned wooden stringer system undeniably cuts
weight and adds strength and longevity, Cruisers nevertheless dials the
scenario up a notch by removing the weakest link--the tabbing. The
company does this via an entirely new kind of separately molded part,
a giant, full-size liner (with stringers, athwartships members, chine
shelves, and "lands" or raised positioning guides for head,
galley, and other modules molded into its sides and bottom) that replaces
the grid. Virtually a hull in its own right, but with gelcoat inside rather
than outside, this liner/stringer
combo is secured in the hull, like one soup bowl inside another, with
IPS WELD-ON methacrylate adhesive, a chemical bonder that is stronger
than tabbing and, in fact, stronger than fiberglass itself.